Power Switch
by skargasm
Summary: Who holds the power...


Title: Power Switch  
Rating: Hard R  
Pairing(s): Spike/Xander  
Beta(s): Unbeta'd but Proofread  
Prompt(s): kink_las prompt ~ Dominance/Submission, 50kinkyways prompt # 38 ~ Clamps, fc_smorgasbordprompt #14 ~ Protection and lover100 #025 ~ Dominant  
Disclaimer: Joss owns 'em, I just make 'em do dirty/bad/wrong then give 'em back!  
Summary: Powerless or powerful - it's all in how you look at it...  


* * *

He loved to see the way his muscles trembled. He could control so much – didn't clench his fists; kept his face a smooth mask, held back the sounds he desperately wanted to release. But the trembling of his muscles, the sheen of sweat gave him away like nothing else could.

Stroking his way down the gently quivering figure secured before him, he let his eyes travel the length of the body that belonged to him. The dark hair was matted with sweat, clinging to the damp forehead and falling into the eyes that were pleading with him. Knew he hated the clamps which was why they were applied this evening – this was punishment, not pleasure. Sliding his fingers down past the smooth skin covering his clavicles, he let them wander down. His nipples were rosy red, engorged and painful looking around the clamps and the hiss that greeted his touch told him just how painful they actually were. Perhaps he had learnt his lesson? No - he would not accept his pet putting himself in danger. If he wasn't_allowed_ to turn him yet, then Xander wasn't allowed to put himself into needless danger.

With light fingers, he traced down his body – savoring the texture of the smooth skin over his clavicle, the light hairs at the top of his chest, over the whorls of hair circling the reddened buds. His man was panting now, breath sawing in and out of his lungs as he struggled to remain still. Spreading his fingers, he trailed them down the center of his chest to the indentation of his belly button, a light dew of sweat covering his fingertips as he swirled around before continuing his downward journey.

Hot, hard, pulsing, the tip of his cock was wet with need, rosy and plump as it lay impatiently on the rise of his lower belly. Teasingly, he traced around it, drawing the outline on the tanned flesh before shifting to the side. He allowed his nails to scrape over the jut of hip bone, the involuntary jerk bringing a smirk to his face. His eyes tracked back upwards, meeting the tortured gaze. The beautiful hazel eyes drowned in the blackness of his pupils, squeezing shut in silent protest before the little pinch he gave caused them to fly open in shock. He could feel them, burning into him as he memorised the beauty of his face: nostrils flaring, lips bitten, swollen and red, cheeks flushed. A study in desire and he wished he could draw like his Sire, could capture this moment in oils that could mirror the thrum of life etched all over his face. So beautiful, so passionate, so his.

* * *

It was painful. His stomach was cramping with desire, his balls drawn tight as he hovered on the very cusp of orgasm. He wasn't allowed to come without permission – in fact, it was doubtful he would be allowed to come at all that evening, but God, his body yearned desperately for that permission. He tracked the smooth movements as the hand slid down his body, biting his lips to hold back a groan as the shape of his cock was traced but the flesh wasn't touched. The dig of nails in his hip made him jerk, the tang of blood in his mouth making him realise he had bitten his lip. He lay there shaking, holding onto his control with everything within him, feeling powerless to fight the fiery burn of his blood thundering through his body. Powerless.

"It's all about power, luv. Call me sir, call me master – none of it means shit because no matter what I do – the power is all yours. You say yes, you say no – you use your magic word and the whole thing stops. That's power, Pet, and it's all in your hands. Think on that the next time you're feeling powerless with the rest of 'em – when they're pulling you into their fuckin' daft schemes that give no thought to surviving. When they're yanking you to them coz they don't want you with me and you're trapped in that in-between place and feeling like you can't take it anymore. Think on that the next time I have you stretched out in front of me, freed from all of it – no more stress, no more life or death – let it go, pet. Let it go – give it all to me..." A strong, cool hand finally, finally took his rigid cock in a tight grasp, stroked, squeezed, stripped at his hard aching flesh whilst he shook and quivered, cried out but held on and held on until "...come pet – come for me..." the clamps were ripped off and the blood rushed from his head to his nipples to his cock and his balls and he arched in his bonds and it all flowed away until none of it mattered because he was giving his power up to Spike and it felt so fucking right and safe and everything he needed but had never realised until it was almost too late.

The crooning voice brought him back to himself and he found he was wrapped up in soft, clean sheets, the hard, cool muscular feel of his Spike at his back, grounding him, bringing him back to earth like a feather on a breeze, fluttering to to a gentle resting point.

"Okay?" He couldn't speak – could only nod slowly. "Ssssh, pet, s'okay. Know what you need, don't I? Always here to give it to you." With a huge effort, the weight of his head on his neck almost too much, Xander shifted around enough to brush his lips against Spike's, his eyes sliding shut as every single molecule of his body said enough. Said sleep. Said rest while you can, while you're safe. And even hearing Spike say "Always in your power, Xander" couldn't stop the final slide into sleep.  


* * *

fin 


End file.
